


Lovesick

by tightropetwitter



Category: The Greatest Showman (2017)
Genre: Drinking, F/M, Gen, Hungover, Hurt/comfort (sorta), Lovesickness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-02
Updated: 2018-03-02
Packaged: 2019-03-25 23:17:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13845105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tightropetwitter/pseuds/tightropetwitter
Summary: Phillip wasn’t sick, not physically, he was lovesick. His body wasn’t sick, but his heart was sick, really sick.





	Lovesick

Phillip was laying the on the floor of his apartment, beside him was a nearly half empty bottle of whiskey and a glass. He was so drunk he could hardly see the ceiling of his apartment, but no matter how much he drank he still couldn’t manage to stop thinking about her, Anne. Anne Wheeler

No matter how much he tried to convince himself otherwise, he was in love with her in every sense of the word, madly in love, losing his heart to her, crazy for her, whatever you wanted to call it, and she wanted nothing to do with him. Phillip slowly rose upwards to a sitting position, still unstable so he leaned against the coffee table.

Phillip grabbed the bottle of whiskey and started to pour it into the glass, sharing some with the floor, he grabbed the glass and quickly downed the whiskey before setting the glass back down by his feet.

He was drinking to forget, which on other occasions had worked, but instead of helping him forget her, his mind seemed to forget everything _but_ her. It was almost cruel.

His mind started taking him back to that night at Jenny Lind’s Concert and holding hands with Anne up in the standing room, he thought about the feeling of the skin on the bark of her hands and how soft it was, feeling the calluses on her palms as their fingers interlocked, how _badly_ he wanted to feel the rest of her, how he wanted to feel her breath against his neck, how he wanted to feel her body press into his chest as he pulled her close. It made him _ache_ how badly he wanted her, but he hurt her, and she wanted nothing to do with him.

It made his chest hurt, deep within itself, it felt tight, and hot, and _sore_ , it was the kind of pain that almost made you question everything, but it wasn’t so much the fact that he hurt her that made him suffer, it was loving her, it was loving her _so_ much, _so_ much that it made him hurt physically.

Phillip felt sick, thinking about Anne hating him made him sick, sick to his stomach, a younger, lesser man might’ve said it was all the booze making him sick, and maybe it was partially, but Phillip would’ve told him he was wrong, he’d been drunk before, he’d been so drunk he couldn’t walk, and he’d _never_ felt this sick before.

Because he wasn’t sick, not physically, he was lovesick. His body wasn’t sick, but his heart was sick, _really_ sick.

He had thought he’d been in love before, but not like this, never like this. The way Anne made him feel was something he’d never felt before, not even in a dream, never in all his twenty-two years of life had meet someone he’d felt so completely enraptured by.

Phillip grabbed the bottle of whiskey and took another drink, forgoing the glass this time and drinking straight from the bottle, spilling slightly, a bead of whiskey rolling out of his mouth and down his jaw.

He lifted his arm, wiping his face with the sleeve of his shirt, staining the cuff with brown liquor, not that it mattered,  it wasn’t like he didn’t have other shirts. Not that anything mattered anyways.

Phillip felt angry, angry at himself for hurting Anne, angry at Anne for making him hurt this bad.

Phillip felt awful for thinking that.

Really, he was just angry at himself for letting go of Anne’s hand, he wished that when that couple looked at them that he didn’t let go, he wished that he held her tighter, pulled her closer.

Phillip felt a flame of rage begin to burn inside him, he was almost livid with himself, he completely blew his chance with Anne over what? Appearances? He took the glass in his hand and stood up, leaning on the coffee table for support. He stood in the center of the apartment, fuming. He had to direct it somewhere.

He cocked his arm back and pitched the glass directly into the wall, he stumbled backwards slightly as a result of the force. It shattered into fragments and scattered across the room. He felt unsteady standing so he lowered himself back down to sit on the floor again. He pressed his back against the coffee table.

He let his head fall limp against the table, feeling the cold wood of it against the back of his neck. He managed to lift his hands and drape them over his face.

Once more Phillip began to think of how badly he wanted her, he wanted to show her how badly he wanted her, he wanted her to want him, he wanted to stop hurting. He wanted to love Anne more than anything.

As he dropped his hands back by his sides he began to feel a bit light-headed, his eyes were hazy. He reached for the bottle of whiskey but missed, his arm going forward instead, and the rest of his body followed.

 

* * *

 

Phillip was awake but his eyes had not yet opened. His face stung, and it was cold. He breathed in and slowly opened his eyes only to immediately squeeze them shut. The morning sun, or perhaps the afternoon sun as Phillip could no longer remember how much of the night he drank away, poured into the room through the windows and burned his eyes.

He sat up slowly, a hand shooting to his head as it throbbed. He took a second to steady himself before opening his eyes again. He looked across the room at the almost entirely empty bottle and all the pieces of shattered glass, confused for a second but then the memories of the previous night came flooding back, mostly, not that there was all that much to remember. Feeling sorry for yourself and nearly drinking yourself to death wasn’t exactly memorable, even if it was that didn’t mean he wanted to remember it.

Phillip barely had another moment to think before his body vehemently began to reject last night’s ordeal.

Despite his whole body now sharing the same pain and illness that his chest and stomach shared the night prior he rapidly stood up and scrambled to the bathroom, his body colliding with the wall on the way there.

His legs folded beneath him, his knees crashed into the tiling of the floor but the pain barely registered as his body spasmed.

Once there was nothing left for his body to reject and at last ceased convulsion, Phillip sank off of his knees and leaned against the wall. Almost on the verge of tears, his throat _burned_ , his body was sore, just feeling simply awful.

As much as he wanted to spend the rest of the day or perhaps even the rest of his life hiding away in the bathroom feeling worthless, it was probably better if he went into work, since P.T had been away in god-knows-where in recent weeks, it would probably be good for someone responsible to be at the circus. However Phillip was beginning to doubt if he could call himself that.

At another time he would be absolutely dreading going into work right now but Anne and W.D said they were going to be absent for a few days, a friend of theirs, who they apparently they lived together for a while after their parents died, was getting married upstate, thank god. Phillip almost hated himself for being happy that Anne was gone, but there was no way he could let her see him like this

He forced himself to rise and start getting ready but stopped before he even left the bathroom, as he passed the mirror, something caught his eye, and for good reason.

Blood dripped down his face, down onto his shirt even. If this shirt wasn’t ruined before, it surely was now. As he looked closer he saw the cause was a small shard of glass embedded into his cheek. As if the day hadn’t already gotten off to a rough start.

 

Phillip managed to get ready for the day, cleaning up the blood as best as he could, making it look like he _didn’t_ just spend probably around twelve hours as a complete wreck.

Stepping outside was a whole other facade to put on, acting like he wasn’t _completely_ hungover was one thing, acting like he wasn’t _completely_ hungover _and_ acting like the very act of stepping outside wasn’t practically blinding him was another.

 

He managed to make it to the building in one piece, sighing deeply at the relief of stepping inside and away from the sun. He didn’t see anyone yet but he could hear a bit of chatter coming from the the main room off of the ring. Phillip walked straight back, though the large archway and looked around at the performers. Not quite all of them, a few of them did work a day job. Despite his quiet entrance Phillip drew almost every gaze to him.

He pretended not to hear those few stifled gasps “Damn! You look like hell. Are you okay?” asked Zuri, one of the two knife throwers. Phillip nodded “Yeah-Y-Yes, I’m fine.” he stammered “Are you sure you can do the show tonight? You look kinda, green, and that’s coming from me.” Vivienne, the snake charmer asked hiding a laugh.

“Yes. I am fine.” he said plainly “I’ll be ready for the show tonight, okay? Don’t w-” Phillip choked on his words, as if his body wasn’t done torturing him earlier, Phillip felt a lump in his throat begin to rise again, which seemed almost impossible as he hadn’t even bothered to eat anything before he left the apartment “Excuse me.” he rasped, he turned to walk away to find somewhere, anywhere else to relief this problem. He broke into a run when he thought he was out of view of the others, which unfortunately, he was not.

The performers looked at each other “What was that all about?” asked Dante, the tattoo man. Lettie helped herself up “I’ll go talk to him.” she said.

 

* * *

 

Phillip had managed to duck away into one of the storage rooms, he’d found a bucket used by the acrobats for one of their balancing acts, he fell to his knees and quickly turned it over to use it for his own purposes.

He didn’t hear Lettie enter behind him over the sound of himself gagging. Lettie waited quietly for him before she spoke up.

Phillip’s body had once more ceased the convulsions and relaxed slightly, Phillip’s knuckles turned white as he gripped the edge of the bucket. He stared blankly into it, normally a sight that he’d shy away from, but at this point he felt so numb it didn’t bother him. He was just so desperate to feel _something_ other than hurt.

Phillip couldn’t help it as a sob escaped from him, last night and this morning seemed to hit him all at once. His chest tightened as he began to breakdown. He just, couldn’t take it anymore.

Lettie chose this moment to step in before it got any worse “Phillip? Are you alright? Is something wrong?’ she asked, walking towards him by a few steps while still giving him space. Phillip jumped slightly at the sound of her voice, he released the bucket and turned around, now sitting on the floor “No! I’m not okay!” he snapped “I am not okay! I hurt! I hurt all over!” his voice was braking. He rested his arms across his knees, now allowing Lettie could see how badly he was starting to shake “From the inside out, down to my fingertips, I hurt.” Phillip cried, he hung his head “I love her.” he whispered.

Lettie sighed, Phillip always managed to maintain such a professional appearance, seeing her friend like this was hard, but at least now she knew why “Oh Phillip.” she said, she tried to think of something to say to help him, she’d been in love once or twice before but, seeing Phillip now, she’d clearly never been as much in love as he was now.

Tears started to roll down Phillip’s face “Have you ever loved someone... Loved them _so_ much that it just… It hurts?” he anguished “You heart just _aches_ for them when you’re with them because you want them so bad… And it aches when they’re not around because you _need_ them.”

Lettie was almost surprised, she didn’t even know sure someone _could_ fall in love like that, she took a seat on a box a few feet away from him “No, I don’t think I’ve ever felt that way.” she exhaled sharply “I’m really sorry, I don’t even know what to say, you have got it _bad_ Phillip Carlyle.” she said. Phillip stared into the ground, tears still silently streaming down his face “Sorry.” Lettie apologized “Well, why don’t you tell her how you feel?” she asked.

Lettie hadn’t bothered asking who it was, partially to avoid running the risk of Phillip breaking down again, but also because it easy to see Anne was obviously the one Phillip had given the key to his heart.

Phillip shook his head “I can’t, sh-” he almost couldn’t bring himself to say it “She hates me.” he sighed dropping his head again, he made an attempt to disguise his sobs before giving up and breaking down again

Lettie folded her hands in her lap “Why? What happened?” she asked. Lettie wasn’t going to lie, she was surprised that something would have happened between them, they seemed like a good match, she’d seen the ways they looked at each other, everyone had.

Phillip inhaled deeply “I made her think I was ashamed of her.” he lamented “At that damned Jenny Lind concert. I got to hold her hand.” a smile flickered on his face before disappearing completely “But this couple turned to look at us, they saw us and  I-I got scared and I let go…” Phillip whipped his head back, slamming it into the crate behind him “I let go! I let go of her hand! I had my chance with her and I blew it!” he shouted “So now she wants nothing to do with me.” Phillip said quietly

“And last night I got drunk, I wanted to forget, I wanted _one_ night without heartache, and I didn’t even get that. Instead I laid on my floor feeling sorry for myself, threw a glass into the wall, that’s how I got this by the way.” he said lightly touching the red mark on his face “And then I drank until I _passed out_.” he said drawing out the last two words “And guess what?” he asked “I didn’t get a pain-free night, I still love her, and now I’m hungover.” he said counting off the items with his hands. Phillip’s shoulders sank “Damn it!” he cursed, he grabbed a nearby juggling ball and throwing it into the wall.

“Okay, woah, woah, woah!” Lettie said putting her hands up “Carlyle you _have_ to calm down!” she said “Wounds hurt, but they heal, unless you pick at them, then they just keep bringing you pain.”

Phillip tipped his head towards Lettie “I think about her everyday, there’s no way I can just _move on_.”

Lettie shook her head “Are you kidding? I didn’t ask you to move on, you’re so lovesick I’m about ready to call the ambulance. There’s no way I could just ask you to ‘move on.’ that’d be like asking the crippled to walk.” she said with a small chuckle “I asked you to heal. Both you and Anne, you made a mistake and you needed to spend some time apart, but now you can get a chance to apologize and make it right with her.” she said

She stood up and walked over to Phillip offering him her hand “Come on, let’s go back to the others, and maybe get you some crackers or _something_ , and have I mentioned you reek of booze?” she said. Phillip took her hand “Alright.” he said pulling himself up with her help, still getting a slight headrush.

  
He put on a light smile as they headed back to the others, he made sure not to let anyone notice it was painted. Although Lettie was right, he _was_ ready to apologize to Anne, he was not going to give up. He was sure of that, another thing he was sure of, was that ache he felt in his chest felt for Anne, would stay there until he would be able to hold her in his arms.

**Author's Note:**

> I really enjoyed writing this but I hated making Phillip hurt so bad! Sorry! I've had this urge to write a story about lovesickness but I had no idea who to write it about and then I fell in love with 'The Greatest Showman' and everything fell into place! Also this isn't a huge deal but technically modern bathrooms as we know them now weren't really around until the late 1800's but I kinda fudged it, sorry if any of you are history buffs lol.


End file.
